


Brothers

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Category: Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Mentions of other rock artists from that era, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: If there was one thing Reggie Dwight knew, it was that his parents were doing their very best to kill him.  Whether it be by their hand or his own, he was never quite certain. He suffered day after day due to their loving ministrations towards each other and himself.  Nothing was ever good enough for his father. Nothing was ever simple with his mother. The mind games they so enjoyed caused nothing but pain to their only son.How Reg broke away and paved a life for himself, even with their words etched in his skin, thanks to his best mate and partner, Bernie.(Written mostly from Bernie's pov)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highly_caffeinated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highly_caffeinated/gifts).



_You’ll never make it…_

If there was one thing he knew all too well, it was that his parents were doing their very best to kill him. Whether it be by their hand or his own, he was never quite certain. He suffered day after day due to their loving ministrations towards each other and himself. Nothing was ever good enough for his father. Nothing was ever simple with his mother. The mind games they so enjoyed caused nothing but pain to their only son.

_You aren’t good enough._

He was too fat. He was too short. He was too stupid to sit his exams. His hands were too small. His hair was thinning prematurely. His face was too plain. He was not what people were looking for, and he would end up dying alone, wishing that he were.

_Your dreams are worthless._

He lay awake long into the night dreaming of his big break into the industry. He played piano at the pub every Saturday evening, and had quite the following for such a young lad. He played all sorts of music, grinning all the while, thankful for his weekly respite from the madness that was his life.

_I wish you were never born. Then maybe I’d be happy…_

He looked at his ‘dear’ mum, sitting at the kitchen table drinking her wine directly from the bottle, with a new perspective. He was now 17. He was taller, he was thinner, he was more intelligent than he gave himself credit for. He was still plain, with short stubby fingers, but somehow they still danced on the ivories as well as most other classical pianists. He was proud of the life he had carved out for himself since his father left, no thanks to either of his parents. 

His father had left them years ago after words of an affair had reached his ears. For a short moment in time, his mother was happy. Reginald was happy for her. When it all came apart, however, it was Reg’s fault for her infidelity, of course. Everything was always Reg’s fault in his father’s eyes from the day he was conceived. 

He shook his head sadly at the walking corpse his mother had become since that wretched night that changed the course of his life forever. After helping he

r to bed that evening, as he had done too many nights to count lately, he packed his few precious belongings and all the pounds he had stashed from his gigs, and he left her as well. 

He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea what his future would turn out to be. (Perhaps if he had, he would have continued the wretched half life he had grown accustomed to.) Full of hope for a better tomorrow he hitchhiked his way from Pinner to London proper, where his life could officially begin.

  
  


*****************

Bernie Taupin couldn’t help but smile when he heard the muttered curses in the hallway just outside his door that followed a rather loud crash. The colorful language was amusing considering most of the other tenants in his complex were older ladies whose equally older husbands worked late hours and who blushed at the slightest off color word.

They made delicious baked goods for him, though.

He picked up his television remote and switched it off, excited to greet whomever it was that had such fetching vocabulary. As much as he enjoyed the city life he had grown familiar with, he missed his brothers and mates back in the country. No amount of telephone calls could stamp away the loneliness he felt when he returned to his flat after a long day at work, alone.

He opened the door and bit back a laugh. A young man, who looked about his age, was furiously stomping his suitcase down to latch it but was having no luck. “Step on it,” Bernie said, nonchalantly approaching him, a smile on his face. The young man looked at him with wide eyes. “Step on it, mate, and I’ll latch it,” he repeated. “My name’s Bernie Taupin, and I live across the hall.”

“Reggie Dwight,” he muttered. Bernie pretended not to notice Reggie’s face, pink with embarrassment, as he latched the case quickly. “Thanks. I don’t even know how that happened,” he said, hopping off the case quickly. “I set it down to open the door to the flat and it bloody exploded.” He ran his fingers through his hair quickly. “At least it didn’t happen in the damn cab.”

Bernie chuckled. “That would have been a sight, I’m sure.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. If you want to come over later for a beer, feel free. I’m home all night.”

Reg nodded, his face reddening even more. “Thanks, mate. I’ll uhhh… I’ll consider it.”

Bernie beamed back at him, and Reg couldn’t help but smile. “Brilliant!” He gestured behind him with his thumb. “305. Hopefully see you later on, then.”

“Right,” Reg muttered, before shuffling into his flat.

Bernie frowned slightly. _I think I came on a bit too strong. Boy would my brothers be having a laugh at me if they could see how desperate I was for some type of kinship, after running away in the dead of night because I couldn’t handle how lively the farmhouse had become,_ Bernie shook his head as he re-entered his flat. _At least I have work in the morn’. Nothing beats boredom than standing in the same spot for 8 hours at the factory, of course._

He collapsed on his sofa and grabbed his pencil and notebook from the coffee table and began to write. The words poured out of his soul in a way they hadn’t in weeks. He began to smile. Something about that Reggie Dwight had knocked away the block he had been dealing with lately.

 _We’ll be great friends_ , Bernie thought decidedly. _I at least hope we will be great friends. He seems so shy and in need of protecting. Like my brothers before him._

_God I hope he doesn't think I'm a nutter...._


	2. Chapter 2

When Reggie asked to borrow his notebook after drinking a few too many beers that evening, Bernie was honestly perplexed. Drunk, but perplexed nonetheless. No one, not even his bloody English teacher in grammar school, had ever been as impressed with his writings as Reg had. If Bernie was less intoxicated, he probably would have snatched his notepad out of Reg’s hands, held it to his chest, and told him no with absolute certainty.

As it was, he was much too confused to make an informed decision. He had barely finished nodding, unsure where that had even come from, when Reg had rushed out the door back to his flat.

Bernie sat on his armchair still staring at the door long after Reg had left. He thought he heard an electric keyboard at one point, but that seemed preposterous. No one on this floor had a bloody piano in their flat. He chalked it up to delusions caused by far too many beers in too short of a period of time considering he had barely touched any alcohol in weeks.

But then Reg had returned, a huge smile on his face, and he had pulled Bernie into his own flat. He pushed him onto the beanbag chair that seemed to be the only piece of ‘furniture’ within the sparsely decorated flat, and sat on the bench in front of his keyboard.

Bernie had never even considered any of his compositions could ever be set to music, but Reg just continued to prove him wrong.

“ _For just this skyline pigeon._

_Dreaming of the open._

_Waiting for the day_

_That he can spread his wings_

_And fly away again._

_Fly away, skyline pigeon fly_

_Towards the dreams_

_You've left so very far behind_

_Fly away, skyline pigeon fly_

_Towards the dreams_

_You've left so very_

_So very far behind”_

“Wow…,” Bernie murmured when Reg’s last note began to fade. “That was… That was extraordinary, Reggie!”

Reggie beamed back at him, almost hopping in his seat. “It was extraordinary wordmanship, or however you want to phrase it, Bernie. I just… I saw all the notes in my head when I was reading it. I heard the chorus before I even finished reading it. I know it was pretty random, me taking your notebook, but I just had to get it out.”

“So you are a songwriter, then?”

“Partial, I suppose,” Reg replied with a shrug. “I studied composition at the academy, so I can write melodies and music, but I can’t write lyrics to save my arse.”

“The academy?,” Bernie asked, raising his eyebrows at the casual tone Reggie spoke with in terms of his music, so unlike the awkward mess he had let into his apartment mere hours ago. 

“The Royal Academy of Music, o’ course.”

“Of course,” Bernie drawled, sarcasm lacing his words. “Blimey, you went to the bloody _Royal Academy of Music?”_

 _Ah, there’s the awkwardness back then,_ Bernie thought, watching as Reg fidgeted on the bench.

“Most Saturdays of my adolescence, yes… Some I spent on the tube instead,” Reg replied with a wry smile. “I didn’t always do my homework, see... So I would call in ‘sick’ and ride the tube up and down for the whole afternoon. I learned quite a bit there, but it was awfully stifling when all I wanted to do was play rock and roll...”

“I can only imagine,” Bernie said with a returning smile. “Do you think you can do… _that…_ again with any of my other works?”

Reg nodded quickly. “Oh yes, I have quite a few tunes to go along with your words that I’ve read. I’ve never been able to bang them out as quickly as I did, Bernie, but well… I’m inspired.”

“I think I like you, Reg Dwight. I think I like you an awful lot.”

Reg only beamed.

****************

As Reg was painting the walls of his flat, Bernie was sat on the same beanbag scribbling furiously in his notebook. The weekend had finally arrived once again, and Bernie was thankful to have some rest from the monotony. Granted, they usually shared a beer together after Reg returned to his flat after his nightly gig at the pub down the street just before Bernie called it a night, but something about sharing the afternoon together in silence whilst being 'creative' made Bernie happy.

He tore the sheet of paper out of his notebook triumphantly, just _knowing_ Reg would turn this into something beautiful, when he found his mouth drop open. Reg was on the stepladder, his paintbrush above his head, and his shirt had ridden up slightly. The faint scars that littered Reg's side shocked him.

"Reg, mate, what are those marks from?," he asked when he was finally able to find his voice.

"What marks, Bernie?," Reg asked, almost innocently, even as he tucked his shirt back inside his trousers. 

"Must have been a trick of the light," Bernie murmured, getting to his feet. It was too early in their friendship for Reg to trust him with his secrets, he knew that. He was willing to wait. He set the page on Reg's keyboard. "I'm going to go put some dinner on. You want me to ring you when it's done?"

Reg jumped off his ladder and waved his hand. "Oh, no, that's alright, Bernie. I'll find something."

Bernie raised his eyebrows. "I've seen your icebox, mate, and it's pretty damn empty. I've got plenty and it's always easier to cook for more than one person. I'll ring you," Bernie replied in a tone that brokered no argument.

"Thank you, Bernie," Reg whispered, wringing his hands together.

"You're my friend, Reg... Let me help you." 

And that was how their nightly drink after Reg got off at the pub turned to nightly dinners as well. Bernie knew one day Reg would trust him. He just didn't realize how bloody stubborn the man could be...

***************

“Did you see the advert in the paper today?,” Reg asked over dinner the following week. 

Bernie shook his head. "I haven't read the news yet today. Got off to a late start this morn', I'm afraid."

Reg took the newspaper from his rucksack and slid it across Bernie’s table. He shifted almost awkwardly in his seat. “Liberty records is scouting for new talent. Do you think maybe we could be considered new talent?”

Bernie set his fork down on his napkin and read the wanted listing. He smiled brightly at Reg. “This is great! You most definitely could be considered new talent, Reg, no doubt on that. You should go down and speak to them.”

Reg shook his head, his cheeks pink. For a moment it looked to Bernie like Reg was going to leave it at that, until he whispered, “No, not on my own I can’t. Bernie, obviously you missed the memo that I _cannot_ write lyrics. It’s one of the most important things for songwriters nowadays; to be able to write your own lyrics..." Reg looked down at the table. "And... What I mean is..." He took a deep breath. "That’s where... That's where you come in.”

Bernie looked at him with wide eyes. “ _Me_?”

Reg scoffed at Bernie's almost indignant tone. “Of course, Bernie. Bloody mental, you are, to think I’d go at it alone… So when do you want to go down there? My gigs aren’t until the evening, as you know, but I mean, other than dinner I don't know when you're free.”

“I can take off Tuesday, I suppose… I have sick leave saved up and…” Bernie ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you realize how fucking ridiculous this is for me, mate? Just last week I was sitting here alone, eating carryout and watching the telly, praying for some type of excitement in my life. Then you moved next door. These past few weeks have been nothing but a whirlwind of fucking ridiculousness...”

Reg chucked. “You’ll soon learn, darling, that ridiculousness is my very nature. Something that just can’t be helped, you see. I hope you don't mind...”

“... And I can’t say I regret a thing about this, really... Which astounds me,” Bernie said, smiling back at him. "If only my family could see me now... Down home country boy turned rock and roll music lyricist..."

"I think I need to change my name, Bernie. I mean... What kind of Rock and Roller is named Reg Dwight? 'Next on Top of the Pops: Reginald Dwight!'"

Bernie laughed at the thought. "Definitely not the name of someone going places, that's for certain."

Reg frowned, worrying his bottom lip. "I'll have to think of something..."

"Something ridiculous, to go with your personality, of course."

Reg nodded seriously, and then they both cracked up.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Present day: _

If Bernie was honest, there was something about John Reid that made him instantly unlikeable, at least to him. He never could pinpoint what it was about the man that raised Bernie’s ire the moment he entered a room, any room, but he fought the urge to growl each and every time he laid eyes on him. 

_ Elton _ was damn smitten with him, though, so he did his best to appear friendly, even as his nails left bloody crescent markings on his palms from fisting his hands a bit too roughly whenever he appeared.

Bernie had known Reg was gay long before he finally told him. It was damn obvious in his mannerisms even from the first day they met. Bernie had known Reg had lived a difficult life before appearing with a crash outside his flat as well, even before Reg felt comfortable enough speaking of his experiences. 

Scars don’t lie, afterall…

It had taken months, but Reg finally confided in Bernie about almost everything. Bernie was right chuffed when Reg felt comfortable enough to open up to him. He had known Reg needed  _ someone _ to have his back, and he had fought hard for Reg to understand that he did, because even with the harsh realities he faced in life, he was so bloody  _ naive. _

Bernie knew John’s type, of course... The dominant type of man who thought he was owed the world. He had worked with many men in the factory who thought the same. From what he understood from Reg’s drunken ramblings, his own father was quite the same, which was why Bernie never understood  _ why _ Reg felt so deeply for John fucking Reid.

He took a long drink, watching John push  _ Elton (God, but I need to start calling him that, even in my mind… _ ) against the wall, and kissing him so deeply Bernie wondered how they were even bloody  _ breathing _ , and glared at John’s back darkly. 

This housewarming party was turning to shit quickly...

It was times like this Bernie wished he never let Elton have his notebook, because if he hadn’t, they’d still be next door neighbors in that dilapidated building, and no one would know either of their bloody names. He would have still been able to protect his best mate, his brother, and not be standing on the sidelines waiting to catch him if ( _ when) _ he fell.

_ God _ , he was a shit friend...

_ Flashback: 6 months earlier _

“Is this really happening?”

Bernie looked at Reg, curled up so small on his sofa, his voice impossibly soft. Bernie wrapped his arm around Reg’s shoulders, smiling proudly when Reg rested his head on Bernie’s chest. It had taken a long while for Reg to be comfortable with physical affection. “Is what happening, Reg?,” he asked, carding his fingers through Reg’s hair soothingly.

“We are going to America, Bernie. I’m performing at the bloody Troubadour in front of fucking  _ legends! _ Then Ray said something about a bloody  _ tour _ of America and I… I never thought…” Reg’s face crumpled. “I can’t do this, Bernie!”

Bernie held him closer, shushing him gently. “Of course you can, love. You’ve been playing gigs at that pub for  _ years _ . The troubadour is a pub as well… Just a bit more well-known, yeah? Knock back a few if you have to, no one will judge you. You are going to do wonderfully.” Bernie sighed, rubbing circles around Reg’s back. “You are a shit hot piano player and there is just… Just something special that happens when you play our songs, Reg. I promise you, you can do this.”

“I...,” Reg began, before lifting his head, a wry smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m making a mess of your jumper.” Bernie chuckled. “I’m going to head to my bed, Bernie. It’s been a long week. Think I just need a sleep.”

“Don’t forget Ray will be here at 6 to get us. Flights at 8.”

Reg groaned. “Yes, yes, I remember. No reason to book it so early but to punish us, I swear it... I have my alarm clock set and everything,” he replied, getting to his feet. He shook his head. “Bloody hell, mate, we are going to  _ America _ …”

“Yes, Reg, we are…,” Bernie said, standing up himself. He ran his fingers through his hair. “You can, uhh… You can kip here, if you want? Just in case you have another panic attack or something. My bed’s big and all...” He flinched at Reg’s wide eyed stare. “Sorry, sorry, dumb idea, mate. Have a good ni-”

“I’d love to, Bernie, if you’re sure you don’t mind?,” Reg cut in, wringing his hands in front of him. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything be-”

“No, no, Reg, I would never feel uncomfortable with you,” Bernie interrupted quickly. They looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing.

Reg linked his arm through Bernie’s, looking up at him with a doe eyed stare. “I adore you, Bernie Taupin.”

Bernie smirked at him. “And I you,  _ Elton John _ .”

Reg groaned once again. “Why you always gotta make my chosen name sound so stupid, hmm?”

Bernie shrugged. “You pinched it from two mates, Reg. I mean, sure, it sounds alright and all, but really? Barely even a thought went into it...

“I’ll have you know I did think long and hard on it, Bernie, and I think it’s a good, strong name. Songwriting duo Bernie Taupin and Elton John!”

“EJBT forever mate,” Bernie agreed solemnly, before they both fell over laughing at the ridiculousness that was their lives.

_ Present day _

If only Bernie knew just how much  _ more _ absurd it would turn out to be… He may have made some different choices… He really wished he made some different choices…

He watched  _ Elton _ and John slip away from their own party, a frown on his face. The last time they had slipped away Elton had come back with bruises around his wrists and neck and Bernie almost ended up with the same when he questioned it. He fought the urge to follow them, as it usually made things worse.

“What do you say we get out of here?,” Bernie murmured to his girlfriend. “I can think of a million other places I want to be right now.”

Maxine smiled shyly up at him. “Whatever you want, babe. Do you want to tell your friend we’re leaving?”

So pretty, so submissive, so  _ Elton _ it made Bernie want to pull his hair out. Instead he smiled down at her, and leaned down and kissed her forehead. “No, he’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll ring him tomorrow and make my apologies, of course. I’m knackered.”

“You brits have such funny words! What’s knackered mean?,” she asked, her eyes shining with mirth as she clutched his hand with her own.

_ I hate explaining everything to this dumb bird, _ Bernie grumbled inwardly. 

He smiled down at her, though, and began to explain.


	4. Chapter 4

When Bernie heard that Sheila Dwight would be watching the place while  _ they _ were on tour, he could admit he was rather taken aback. First, he didn’t realize Elton was still speaking to his mother. The last time they’d seen her, Bernie spent the evening consoling Elton through flashback after flashback he was afraid to let him go back to his own flat at six in the morning so he could go to work. Second, he didn’t realize he was going on the tour. He had gone on the first one, of course. He even was shown on ‘Top of the Pops’ briefly when Elton mentioned him as the lyric writer.

It was quite embarrassing, really. He liked being in the background. He left center stage for Elton. At least he had brushed his hair that morning.

With John bloody Reid in the picture now, he truly thought he was going to be left to his own devices at his newly purchased Ranch in California and be able to set it up properly. He had hired ‘hands’ to help him with the livestock, but he really wanted to be a part of the care of the animals. But if he was invited to go on the tour, staying at home was just not an option. He had promised both Elton and himself that if he was needed, he would be there, no questions asked.

After throwing his few suitcases in the back of the car, and sliding into the backseat beside him, Bernie knew he made the correct decision. “What’s happened to your face now, then?,” he asked, frowning as Elton drank the whisky straight from the bottle.

“Leave it, Bernie,” Elton grumbled darkly, before taking another swig of whisky. “It’s too early for heart to hearts and shite.”

Bernie raised his eyebrow. “Reg, it’s three in the bloody afternoon…”

Elton nodded once. “Yes, much too early.”

Bernie couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll never change, will ya?”

“No, I reckon not. Sorry for being in a shite mood, Bernie. Thanks for coming with even though you know what you’re getting into by now.”

“You’re my brother,” Bernie said simply, as though that explained it all. 

As though that explained why he labored all day and went to Elton’s gigs or recording sessions at night. As though that explained going to work in the morning with two hours of sleep under his belt due to being awoken at odd hours by the telephone or knocks on his door due to either Elton’s anxiety, having too much to drink, or to go over a new song, but still maintaining a smile on his face because he had to be strong throughout the day, even if he wished only to crawl back into his bed and sleep away the day. As though that explained why instead of resting whenever he was able, he sat with his guitar, writing his poems in lyric format to ease Elton’s own composing, just to smile when Elton’s renditions of his songs went completely against what he had pictured. 

Because it did. At least to him.

They made their way to the airport in a comfortable silence, Elton snoozing throughout most of the journey. Bernie was pleased Elton was resting, because if he was honest with himself, his mate looked like shite. He hadn’t spoken to him for a month, not after the disastrous ‘housewarming’ party.

Why Elton needed another house, Bernie still couldn’t fathom, though it was nice to have him nearby.

He had heard from Brian May that Elton had literally thrown John in the pool after an argument that stemmed from him speaking with Freddie Mercury... He wished he had stuck around long enough to see that mess…

When the plane took off and Elton had ordered enough cocktails to make his head spin, Bernie allowed himself to relax. They had a long journey back to England.  _ At least Sheila is in Los Angeles, so we won’t have to deal with her nonsense, nor Elton feeling that he just  _ has _ to pop in and say hello… We will go to his house in Surrey and visit his Nan, though. I will ensure that. Maybe she can talk some sense into him and his drinking. _

“I’ll take a gin and tonic, thanks,” he murmured to the stewardess.  _ His bloody father is still in Pinner. He better not think going to see  _ him _ would do him any favors, _ he thought, shuddering slightly at the thought of Stanley Dwight. “Better bring me another too, miss. This one will be gone in short order.”

Bernie remembered the one and only time he met the man that caused Elton such grief. Bernie had been left a shaking mess as he held a whimpering Elton, Stanley knocked out on the floor. He couldn’t remember who actually had knocked Stanley out, but Bernie was relieved when the man went down. They had scurried out the back door and never returned when the man was at home.

He knew that Elton just wanted his father to be proud of him. He no doubt believed with his success as of now, there was no way he  _ wouldn’t _ be proud.  _ I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t go see him. How, I’m not certain. _ He grimaced.  _ I’ll have to talk to John about it. He can persuade Elton better than I now, sadly. _

Bernie looked over at Elton, who was both snoring and drooling, and couldn't help his grin. He took Elton's hand in his own, thankful to be beside him at that moment.

_ And wasn’t that just how it happened? Your best mate finds a lover, and it’s  _ them _ who makes them see reason? I will give John that much, he has kept Elton from doing his more ridiculous stunts, but… I miss being that person. _ ..


	5. Chapter 5

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Reg…”

“Elton! And you’re calling me stupid now?”

Bernie groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair as he grabbed his gin and tonic with such force some fell over the side. “No, _Elton_ , I am not calling _you_ stupid. I just think the idea is nutters. What good could come of it, really, mate? Just leave him with his new little family, and be content with our little family, alright?”

Elton collapsed on the sofa in the rather large suite John had rented for the week for their shows in London beside Bernie. He rested his head on the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling, letting the tears of frustration from so many years of being unworthy of his father’s affections, fall. 

It was only Bernie with him, after all. 

“I just want him to say ‘well done, son.’ I see pictures of him with his young sons, smiling and hugging them, looking at them like they are best thing to happen to him. I just want him once… Just once… To think I am something worthy... Is that too much to ask, Bernie?”

Bernie put his hand on Elton’s thigh and squeezed. “No, mate, it’s not too much to ask at all. But we _know_ him. You’ll go there with great expectations, and be let down once again. Hell, the last time we saw him one of us knocked him out, remember?”

Elton smiled slightly at the memory. “It was you, Bernie. He had me all shaking against the wall, his hand around my throat, and you took the baseball bat from the umbrella stand and knocked him good and proper. I had never been in such awe of you until then.”

Bernie blinked. “Did I really? My memories of that night are blurred even now. Too much alcohol, I reckon.”

Elton giggled. “You were more nervous meeting him than I was going to see him, mate. We were going to tell them about our little fling, our _love_ , remember? But you were too drunk to even speak properly, really, so it didn’t get that far.”

“Right,” Bernie murmured, a soft smile on his face, memories of the night before Elton’s first tour of America, and the weeks thereafter of bliss coming to mind.

Until John bloody Reid came into the picture. And Maxine, of course. But he would still blame everything he could on John Reid as long as he was able.

“Are you happier? With John, that is?,” Bernie asked, flinching at the way his voice caught. _Way to be subtle, idiot,_ Bernie thought, downing the rest of his alcohol with one short gulp. He quickly got to his feet and almost ran to the liquor cabinet.

“I don’t know how to answer that, Bern,” Elton said honestly, shrugging. “He’s a lot different than you, that’s for sure. He has more experience…”

Bernie held up his hand. “I don’t need to hear that part, mate,” he said with a grin.

Elton laughed heartily. “What about you? Are you happier with Maxine? Getting married soon and all?”

“She’s a lot different than you, that’s for sure,” Bernie parroted, a smirk on his face. Elton laughed again. He sat back down beside Elton. “I don’t know if I love her, or if I’m just doing it because that’s what your supposed to do after a year of dating, you know? Plus my mum and da just won’t _leave_ it be… So I got the ring. Haven’t set a date or anything yet, much to everyone’s disappointment...”

Elton nodded. “I know. Even John is asking me when the date is. He is saying he needs to know to ensure he sets aside those days as free, but truly I think he just won’t feel safe enough in our relationship, even though we’ve been together a little over a year, until you are officially married, or at least living with her. He uh… He knows about us.”

Bernie raised his eyebrows. “Does he? And he elected to just get one suite?”

Elton shrugged. “We trust each other, and he’ll be here in a few days anyway.”

Bernie nodded. “Wonderful. Now back to seeing Stanley, it’s a no from me, mate. And if you do decide you just _have_ to go fucking see him, you better wait until John is here, because I will _not_ be picking up the bloody pieces when he hurts you again.” Elton nodded once. “I’m going to bed, Elton. It’s been a long day, you should think on retiring yourself. See you in the morning.”

“John should be calling soon, then I will. Have a good night, Bernie.”

***************

_Of course he didn’t listen to me. Of course he went and saw the prick this morning before I even woke. Of course he came back here in pieces. And of course I can’t just stand by and watch him suffer alone,_ Bernie thought, holding Elton tightly, as the poor bloke sobbed into his chest.

“And then he asked for my bleeding autograph on ‘Tumbleweed Connection’, but not for him. For his co-worker. ‘He’s a big fan’, he said, a damnable smirk on his face, knowing I was just bloody gutted, Bernie,” Elton choked out somehow as he gasped in between his heaving sobs. “And my brothers just _laughed_ at how heartbroken I was. I should have listened to you, Bernie.”

 _Yes, you should have. This one time, you should have,_ Bernie thought, shushing him softly as he rocked him. _I’m going to kill that man if I ever come across him. No one hurts Reg like this._

Bernie carried him to his bedroom within the suite when Elton finally, _finally_ calmed down and fell asleep in his arms. He pulled the duvet up under his chin, and dragged a chair beside the bed. He pulled out his notebook and began to write. His paragraphs would become poems later. His poems would become something even greater when he pulled out his guitar and formatted them correctly. But they would become the best when Elton took them to the piano and made magic happen.

But for now, Elton needed rest, and Bernie was more than happy to watch over him and ensure it happened. Until John arrived later on in the evening, and he would pass his best mate to his boyfriend, because that was the noble thing to do.

Because Bernie had ruined what they could have had, and hated himself more and more each day because of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skips quite a bit in this chapter. :) Hope you have enjoyed it so far! Comments and kudos as always are appreciated!

Bernie’s smile was rather sad when Elton ran into John’s arms the moment he entered the suite. He remembered a time when it was his arms Elton ran into the moment he opened the door. Their kiss was not as much a fight for domination like most of the other kisses Bernie had witnessed this past year, but one of actual  _ love _ , and that seemed to hurt more than Bernie expected it to.

“What’s happened to your pretty face, now, my love?,” John whispered, cupping his cheek gently, looking at him with such concern on his normally unreadable face Bernie wanted to vomit.

“My mother,” Elton whispered, no doubt hoping Bernie couldn’t hear him. 

_ I fucking knew it… _ , Bernie thought, his forehead creasing in his own concern. He wondered just what had happened between them that made Elton feel he couldn’t confide in him anymore. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, straining to hear the rest of the conversation.

“Oh, my love, what did you do to her now?”

Bernie sat right back up and gaped.  _ What did  _ he _ do to  _ her _ now? Really, Reid? Like whatever he did means he deserves to be hurt by her, _ Bernie grumbled in his mind, knowing better than to bring Reid’s attention upon himself quite yet. He took a long drag from his cigarette before he made himself visible by telling Reid to get the fuck out like he really wanted to, but no doubt he would end up getting kicked out instead.

“She didn’t like that I asked her not to fire the staff no matter what, like she did in Surrey when she watched over the bungaloo for us, and let us deal with anything she might not like when we returned,” Elton said, shrugging.

Bernie nodded.  _ Perfectly right, and so proud you stood up for yourself, mate, _ Bernie thought, batting the ash off the lit end, a smirk on his face.

“Oh, love, we could have rehired everyone. We told them to expect her to do something like that, and not to actually listen to her. If you had only listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened, would it?” Elton shook his head no.

_ I can’t believe what I’m hearing…, _ Bernie thought, shaking his head sadly. He never realized just how controlling Reid was. A jerk, yes. An arse, most of the time. He had Elton reigned in hook, line, and sinker, and all Bernie could do was watch.

“What else has happened?”

Elton smiled softly. “I went and saw my dad… He didn’t beat me up, only beat me down, so no other bruises, I promise you. Bernie helped me through it since you weren’t here. Thank you ever so much for letting him accompany us.” The earnestness on Elton’s face was almost sickening, as John looked over his shoulder and finally saw him.

_ Letting me accompany you… How generous this man is… Boyfriend of the fucking year... _ , Bernie groused, pasting a large grin on his face. He lifted his tumbler of gin and tonic to John. “Cheers, mate. How ya been?”

Reid’s lips thinned. “Fine, thank you. And your dear fiance?,” he ground out somehow.

Bernie smiled fondly. “Fine, thank you. She’s been looking at designs for her wedding gown, and had planned to look at locations whilst we were on the road. Pity I am not there to help, I suppose,” Bernie replied, downing his glass quickly. “I should ring her up and let you both catch up, I suppose. Just… Don’t be too loud, if it’s at all possible. I just ate. Thanks.”

He laughed as they both swung their middle fingers at him, and kissed once again.

*******************

Bernie forgot how grueling the tour life was, huffing as he helped the roadies pack up the tour ‘plane’ that Elton recently bought off of Led Zeppelin, (and really, what was their life now?). He was thoroughly sick of the young lads telling him that he didn’t need to help, that he should rest, that he was too ‘important’ to be out there with them, because he’d rather be here helping them then listening to Elton and Reid’s recent row in the cabin.

Cocaine makes people do strange things, like buying a bloody  _ plane _ to go from gig to gig, or taking a rather large glass Tyrannosaurus Rex off of Ring Starr and putting THAT in your backyard, or buying a full scale tram delivered by helicopter to your backyard beside it, (Or maybe it was just Elton?), but it was Reid who introduced the appalling drug to Elton so Bernie figured he really had it coming.

“Thank you again for your help, Mr. Taupin,” one of the lads almost gushed, an adoring smile on his face while the rest of the crew stood around them.

Bernie wiped his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief.  _ Maybe I am too old to be throwing this shit around now, _ he thought, as he smiled awkwardly at him. “Better out here than in there at the mom’, lad. But you’re welcome I suppose.” He noticed the young lad’s eyes kept swinging to his handkerchief and looked at him in surprise. “You don’t actually want this thing, do you?” The lad’s face reddened as he nodded minutely. “This shite only happens to EJ, not me,” Bernie muttered, tossing the handkerchief at the young man with a shake of his head.

_ Maybe being in the cabin is better than being out here. How fucking weird that…,  _ Bernie thought, running up the stairway into the plane before his life got any stranger. He continued his run through the cabin and to the back bedroom, passed Elton and Reid who were  _ still bloody arguing! Jesus, for two men in fucking ‘love’ they fight an awful lot… _ and collapsed on the bed. 

When they were ready for their make-up sex they could kick him out. For now, he needed rest, and he was going to bloody get it, or die trying.

*************

The first leg of the tour was successful, all in all. Bernie was pleased with how well Elton did each night, even if Reid wasn’t always impressed. There were many a night Elton would knock on Bernie’s hotel door, a tear filled and intoxicated mess, usually after the afterparties Bernie hardly ever attended. Bernie asked no questions, only stepped aside and allowed his friend access to  _ someone _ who truly cared for him, and not what he brought to the table.

Not that Elton saw it that way. Yet.

Bernie had been home for two hours, and couldn’t believe what Maxine had done to his wonderful log cabin in his absence. He had thought about all he had wanted to do with it the whole time he was away, and it seemed he was already overruled. It was full of pink and pastels and paintings of animals… Not at  _ all _ what Bernie had imagined when it came to decorating his first real home. 

He collapsed onto the plush purple sofa she had apparently ordered to replace his worn brown leather loveseat and accepted the tumbler of whiskey she handed with a murmured thanks. He patted the soft material with his calloused hands as he gazed around the sitting room. Even his perfect fireplace was blocked off and a small wood stove , that for some reason was completely railed in unless you opened a damn latch (not very practical that...), apparently had taken its spot . “Why is the fireplace covered up, love?,” he asked, because as much as he hated the rest of the decor, it was that that threw him.

“Oh, you know… Just baby proofing…,” she replied as nonchalantly as she could.

B ernie dropped his glass.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more snippets into their life now leading into what will be the reason why Bernie and Elton actually broke up. Thanks for reading so far! I'd love to hear how you are liking it as of now.

_ “You mean… You’ve had sex?” _

Bernie let out an almost strangled laugh, pulling the receiver away from his ear when he heard Elton almost shrieking on the other side of the line. “Of all the things I just said, mate… Not being able to finish the tour, Maxine making my manly log cabin as girly as possible, her being pregnant and knowing for three bloody months and not telling me even though we spoke on the phone every night we were away, that’s the thing you repeat, mate? ‘ _ You’ve had sex’, _ for Christ’s sake, mate,” Bernie muttered, shaking his head. “And it’s not like you don’t have sex. You moved on pretty fast after we…” 

Bernie smacked his own forehead. He didn’t realize he was still so bitter even after all these months. “Anyways, I’ve bloody heard it, mate, so you have no room to lecture me. How much have you had to drink today, Elton?”

_ “Just a bit. I seem to have lost track after the second bottle of scotch.” _

“Second  _ bottle  _ of scotch? Jesus, Elton.”

“ _ It’s been a rough day. John took my mum out shopping and they both told me I was in no way invited to go  _ **_shopping with my own bloody credit card_ ** , _ and that I should lay off on the carry-out, darling. I deserve it.” _

“You could uh… You could come here?,” Bernie said, rolling the telephone cord around his finger. He winced at Maxine’s glare as she folded her arms across her just barely noticeable baby bump. “Or wait! We can meet up and go shopping with one of your other credit cards or something. I know you don’t just have the fucking one... No reason to sit at home and get drunk and let them win this time, isnit?”

“ _ I suppose that is doable. But Bernie… You hate shopping... _

“But I love you, Elton, so… What do you say?”

Elton was silent for a good minute. Bernie knew he was trying to decide if getting out of bed was actually worth the energy or if he should just continue to drink alone. Bernie tried not to squirm as Maxine’s glare turned almost deadly at his pronouncement of loving Elton. She never understood what they had and never would. 

Not that it mattered, not anymore, with them both in such loving relationships now...

“ _ Alright. You driving? John took the car.” _

Bernie jumped to his feet. “Yes! I’ll be there in half an hour, mate. Plenty of time for you to have a wash if you need to. No need to stink up my truck, alright?”

“No need for him to be in there at all,” Maxine murmured as soon as he hung up the telephone, narrowing her eyes at her fiance. “I mean, really, Bernie, you’ve been home for three days, and you are already going out and gallivanting with the bitch himself. Did you forget I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour that you promised you’d be there for?”

Bernie ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I did,” he muttered. “I…”

“Oh, don’t start apologizing. You’ll go out with _him_ no matter the other opportunities you have. I used to think it was cute how much you watched over him. Now it just makes me sick,” she said, getting to her feet. “I think I’ll be going to my mother’s after my appointment. Don’t wait up for me, Bernie Taupin.”

Bernie watched her leave and rather than a sense of disappointment he expected to feel when she finally saw what Bernie did NOT have to offer,  _ finally _ , he felt only relief.

**************

Bernie accepted the offered cigarette with a weary sigh. Elton had barely spoken since he picked him up, but at least he was washed and dressed rather casually (for him), so it would bring less attention to them while they traversed the mall (because small shops just didn’t cut it today, apparently.)

“Maxine left today,” Bernie said softly, finally finding a decent parking spot the mall parking lot. He put the truck in neutral. “I have to say I am relieved rather than upset, before you ask.”

“Are you? Even though she’s pregnant?,” Elton asked, his voice nothing more than a monotone when he deigned to speak ever since Bernie asked about the new bruises that were rung around both his neck and forearms. He handed Bernie his lighter as he took a long pull from his own cigarette.

“Yes. She’s at her mother’s, I suppose. She never understood our friendship, and I got tired of having to explain it,” Bernie said, lighting his cigarette. “But no, before you start wallowing, it’s not your fault, mate. It’s mine. I forgot about her doctor’s appointment this afternoon before asking you to go out. I got tired of staring at the floral prints in my own house.”

Elton smirked. “A pity, really, that such ghastly decor ended up in your mancave, yeah?”

Bernie shrugged. “Looks kind of like your house in Surrey, really. You’d probably adore what the wreck she caused.”

Bernie laughed when Elton shoved him out the door of the truck. He ran around the truck and pulled Elton out as well, putting him in a (gentle) headlock. If people were staring because of their unruly behaviour, well… Bernie would just continue to remind himself they were rather famous and that was actually why.

****************

“John did it.”

Bernie set his iced coffee down on the food court table and folded his hands on the tabletop. He damn well knew it was John that caused those bruises, and probably more unseen, but hearing the affirmation made his heart stop. “What’s happened, Elton?”

Elton sighed, fidgeting with the button of his shirt sleeve, his eyes holding tears he refused to shed. “I yelled at him. I never yell at him, of course. I’m usually more than happy to just let him lead me around like the dog I am. I feel he is rewarding my mother for being a bitch to my staff and myself by taking her out today. He reminded me she did watch over our house whilst we were away, but Bernie, she did as she asked her not to and fired all the staff! Half won’t return because they are afraid we will leave them with her again. I really liked Natasha…”

“You have every reason to feel that way, Elton. John is wrong.”

Elton smiled slightly, picking up his own iced coffee. “I packed his things, set them outside, and changed the locks before you came to get to me. You of all people know I can’t stay with someone who hurts me.”

Bernie flinched. Yes, he knew that full well.


	8. Chapter 8

When Reg first crashed into his life, he was just seventeen years old. He had had enough of bloody Ownby by Spital and ran away to London. He had saved enough money for a deposit on a rundown flat (from a little, old landlady who never asked for his name or age, thank God… He really hadn’t wanted to have to go back home after leaving in the middle of the night), from carting around chicken carcasses in his spare time, and able to pay his rent by working in a just as run down factory when he lied about his age.

He always knew being taller than anyone he knew would pay off somehow.

Reg had been a whirlwind of chaos in his carefully constructed life. From the first day he met Reg he knew that he was destined for great things, and was thankful that he could be a part of it. There were many a day, however, when Bernie was unsure if coming to his aid that day was worth all the aggravation that came with it, but as Reg lay curled up in his arms, he had to say that at least today, it was worth it.

Bernie pushed Reg’s hair from his forehead, running his thumb across the creases of his forehead. He frowned. When asleep, Reg usually was so peaceful. Asleep was the only time he really looked his age. Today, though, he looked every bit older than his twenty-four years even whilst sleeping.

_ Damn Reid, and Sheila, and Stanley, and Maxine, and the whole fucking world, _ Bernie thought, hushing him when he made a small noise of distress. Bernie took a deep breath.  _ Reg has always been in tune with my emotions, and it seems today’s no different. _

Bernie remembered a time when Reg had issues with his sexuality. It was Bernie, in his infinite teenage and horny wisdom, who decided they could ‘practice’ on each other to make Reg more comfortable with himself. Bernie had always been attracted to both genders, and in the spirit of ‘free love’ and all, he thought it was a grand plan.

They kissed on the sofa. They kissed against the wall. They kissed laying in Reg’s bed, even, but the moment it became just a little more heated, Reg would back away. Bernie grew frustrated. He was a horny teenager, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t until Reg admitted to being assaulted in secondary school by a teacher, (the real reason he left and became a full time musician), it all made sense.

It wasn’t until the night before the left for their first tour in America that they moved any further. Bernie remembered it being wet, and hot, and absolutely brilliant, as they connected. That first night turned to two, which turned to at two times a day, until they were fucking like rabbits in their hotel room as often as _Elton_ was free. 

Then Bernie tried cocaine for the first and last time at an afterparty while already beyond intoxicated.

It was like he was outside of his own body. Like he was watching his own behaviour with no way to stop himself. He remembered feeling such disdain he was ready to vomit. He did things he wouldn’t do whilst sober that still embarrassed him to this day, 3 years later.

Brian May would never let him forget it.

It was dear Freddie that picked Elton up and bustled him away from him, and Brian who threw him outside. Brian took him back to his hotel and threw him under the cold spray until he sobered up.

“ _ Where’s Reg, _ ” he had asked, like he still had a reason to know.

“ _ With Freddie. Leave him there, Bernie _ ,” Brian had said, before leaving him as well.

Brian and Bernie had always gotten along  _ so _ well. When he left him with a disgusted parting sneer, that was when he knew he had real and truly fucked up, and vowed to never allow himself to get that way ever again. 

He held Reg closer, glad that even though that night ruined their budding romantic relationship, after a month of groveling he was able to get his best mate back. Bernie knew Reg dabbled in many different drugs, but he never did so in front of Bernie, a memory of that night no doubt still stuck in his mind.

_ Was it really only a year ago? Sometimes it seems like so long ago, other days it feels like just yesterday, _ Bernie thought, rubbing circles across Reg’s back.  _ Here I am, thinking about the past and calling him Reg to myself once again. He’s going to kick me if I do it aloud. _

He was certain Reid would be ringing here shortly wondering just where  _ Elton _ was and why his shit was on the lawn. He was certain Maxine would be ringing about her appointment and to see if Bernie would choose her over  _ Elton _ soon enough as well.

But for now, the only outside noise was Elton’s soft snores, and soon enough, Bernie followed suit.


	9. Chapter 9

The telephone woke him from a rather brilliant dream abruptly. Bernie groaned, stretching his long arms above his bed, and looked over at Elton. He frowned, sticking his hand under his mate’s nose to ensure he was still breathing, sighing in relief when in his sleep Elton batted Bernie’s hand away. He rolled over and picked up the receiver, thankful that whatever had Elton distressed before seemed to have passed, and he was slumbering peacefully beside him.

“What?,” Bernie grumbled softly, unwilling to exchange pleasantries with either of them that would be calling so late. 

“ _ Put him on the phone, Taupin.” _

“Ah, Reid. How predictable you are,” Bernie replied, rubbing his eyes with his fist. He squinted at the alarm clock beside his bed. “It’s bloody ten pm, mate, and I’m afraid he’s unavailable, but I’d be more than happy to relay a message if I must.”

“ _ Why can’t I get into my house?” _

“Elton’s house, you mean,” Bernie said, smirking at John’s frustrated groan. He closed his eyes imagining John’s reaction, feeling nothing but bliss for the tosser who had caused such drama between him and Elton early on in their relationship. “He may or may not have changed the locks after you bruised him up properly. You of all people should know better than to think he’d forgive that, with all he’s been through. Pretty shitty thing to do to your boyfriend, innit?”

“Is’at John?,” Elton asked through a rather large yawn as he reached for the receiver. 

Bernie rolled his eyes but passed it to him in any case. Bernie rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom.  _ I really do wish that he is able to stand his ground with him. I don’t hold out much hope of it happening, but it would be rather nice if he did, _ Bernie thought as he splashed water on his face.

“I know you didn’t  _ mean _ to, John. They never  _ mean _ to hurt me. But the fact of the matter is you  _ did _ and I already  _ told _ you that that is my deal breaker in any relationship. You know what my parents have done to me. I am not living in that wretched spiral again!,” Bernie heard Elton yell. 

Bernie smiled at his reflection in the mirror.  _ Get ‘em, captain fantastic, _ he thought, as he squeezed toothpaste out of the tube onto his tooth brush.  _ I wonder if I could be just as strong when faced with Maxine. _

He patted the bruise on his cheek, the last remnant of their confrontation before he went to pick up Elton that afternoon. Elton hadn’t spoken of it, Bernie wasn’t even sure he was sober enough to notice it, really, but he knew he would soon enough. Maxine had never actually thrown a punch before, and he had blinked stupidly whilst she held her hand to her chest whilst groaning in pain. She had then ran out the door without a word.

_ I do hope she broke a knuckle or two, _ he thought, surprising himself with his dark thoughts.

Being much taller and stronger than she, he never retaliated when he smacked him up a bit. He knew his mother would castrate him if he had even tried. He had to wonder if he was just as bad as Elton if he took her back. He knew that although this was the first time Elton had kicked John out for leaving bruises, it was not the first time he had hurt him.

There are only so many times one can walk into a door, even while intoxicated.

He heard the receiver slam onto the hook and finally exited the bathroom. He lay back down beside Elton and gathered the weeping man into his arms once again. He rocked him, shushing him gently, praying he would fall asleep without the aid of a drink or a drug. 

He found himself glaring at the telephone. He just wanted his friend to be happy for once. Was that too much to ask of the world?

********************

“Can you get in touch with Ray, Bernie? I think I need to make things right.”

Bernie looked up at the doorway in surprise. He hadn’t expected Elton to ever utter those words after the disaster of a last meeting they had had before Elton hired Reid to manage their music (without his consent, thank you very much…) “Uh, yeah, sure,” Bernie replied, throwing his pencil on his notebook. “I am having dinner with him next week, actually. I’ll ask him to stop by before.”

“You’re having dinner with him?,” Elton asked. The look of surprise on Elton’s face was almost comical.

“Well, yeah. We meet up each time he’s in the states. He’s a good friend,” Bernie answered, shrugging. “Why do you want to ‘make things right’, as you put it? Finally firing the dickhead?”

Elton sat across from Bernie at the kitchen table, picking an apple out of the fruit bowl in the center. He fidgeted in his seat as he thought about how to explain. “Well, if we aren’t actually together, wouldn’t it be awkward still having a working relationship? I don’t want him to convince me to stay like he always does,” Elton whispered miserably, setting the apple down in front of him. “Got any gin or vodka or anything, mate? Could really use a drink right now.”

“It’s six am,” Bernie responded, as though the time of day truly mattered to a self-professed alcoholic. Bernie sighed, picking his pencil back up in his hand. “Cabinet beside the icebox. At least make a screwdriver, then we can pretend you are only drinking orange juice and not well on your way to becoming drunk by nine am…”

Elton snorted, but didn’t respond otherwise.

And Bernie was rather concerned with just how much vodka and how little orange juice his screwdriver consisted of, but didn’t respond either

_ Story of our friendship, that, _ Bernie thought, a hint of inspiration coming when he least expected it.  _ It will take you a few vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again, _ he wrote, a grin on his face that widened the moment Elton jumped to his feet the moment Bernie handed him the paper when he was finished with it. 

_ He’ll be okay. I will make sure he will be okay, _ Bernie promised himself, taking a sip of his now cold coffee. _ I have to. _

********************

“I didn’t expect you to return.”

Bernie watched Maxine shift uncomfortably on the sofa, almost spilling her cup of tea on her sundress. Bernie took a long pull from his bottle of lager, thankful Elton was napping in the guest room and not Bernie’s bedroom during this visit. The aftermath of  _ that _ would have been ridiculous, really.

“I didn’t expect to return,” she whispered miserably.

Bernie waited for her to continue. He rolled his eyes when she didn’t. “Then why did you?,” he prompted, not in the mood for her nonsense. It had been a peaceful few days without her here, and he didn’t want that to change.

“You took down the pictures,” she said instead, looking around the sitting room. The only thing that showed she lived here was the furniture that Bernie would be donating to the Salvation Army soon enough. 

Even Elton agreed it was hideous, and that was saying something…

“Yes,” Bernie replied shortly.

“I’m sorry, Bernie,” she said, folding one arm across her chest. “I don’t know why I was so angry. I think it’s because of the baby.”

Bernie shrugged. “You’re always angry, don’t blame it on the baby,” Bernie replied, surprising even himself with the venom in his voice. “I’ll financially support our child. I’ll even take him or her on the weekends or something if you allow it. But we will not be raising our child together, Maxine. I am done with whatever it is we had.”

“I am not always angry! And I already sent out the invitations to the wedding!”

Bernie shrugged once again. “Well, you better rescind those invites soon… There will be no wedding, Maxine. I shouldn’t have asked you to marry me in the first place. You have anger issues that you need to deal with before the baby is born. Believe me when I say, if you ever raise a hand to my child like you have to me, you will never see him or her again, Maxine. And no, that is not just a promise, it is a threat as well.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so unreasonable!,” Maxine yelled, jumping to her feet, her hands fisted at her side.

Bernie raised his eyebrows. “But you don’t have an anger problem.”

Maxine shrieked.

“You are ridiculous, woman…,” Bernie muttered, taking another long pull from the bottle. “Just leave,” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I don’t know why I invited you in in the first place. I should have just slammed the damn door in your face.”

“This isn’t over, Bernie Taupin,” she said before she finally acquiesced and turned towards the door. “You will realize you need me soon enough.”

“Hold your breath until that happens, Maxine,” Bernie murmured, watching her stomp towards the door. 

He snorted.  _ No anger problems, indeed... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are now officially away from their abusive partners and looking towards a brighter future. Now what? ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Bernie sat beside the hospital bed with his hands cupped around Elton’s thankfully still warm hand on his forehead. Bernie was crying as quietly as possible, unwilling to disturb Elton’s rest. The night had been almost unbearable as he awaited news of his mate’s condition. He had paced the thankfully empty waiting room for hours barely seeing his surroundings, so lost in thought he was.

_ I can’t believe I missed this…, _ Bernie thought.  _ Ever since the phone call he had been so quiet. He had been drinking more and eating much less. I would hear him vomit and just think it was the alcohol, not him purposely throwing up his food again. He had been spending so much time in his room writing. Never once did I think… _

Bernie couldn’t hold back his sob. Seeing Elton’s almost peaceful face while he bled all over the duvet was something that no amount of alcohol could erase from his brain. The note left, almost unreadable due to both tears and blood, still was folded and in the breast pocket of his shirt. 

He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to read it.

He gently set Elton’s arm back down at his side. He reached for his now cold tea and sighed. The doctor had no idea when he would wake. He had lost so much blood and had ingested so many pills the poor doctor had lost him twice in surgery.  _ How angry Elton will be when he finds out he almost died three times in one day and still will be waking up, _ Bernie thought, sipping at his tea.

The door opened gently behind him. Bernie glared when John Reid entered the hospital room. The man was dressed in a fine black suit with a green button down and black tie, not a hair out of place. Bernie in his ripped dungarees and plaid flannel shirt, his long hair down and no doubt a fluffy mess with how many times he ran his fingers through it felt so much hatred his breath caught.

“What are you doing here, bloody wanker,” Bernie hissed, getting to his feet. “Elton is finally resting. You need to leave.”

“I came to check in on him. I heard from Tony King he was here,” John replied just as quietly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Bernie was gratified when John shifted uncomfortably under his withering glare. “You may hate me, and he may dislike me right now, but I love him, Taupin. He is everything to me. If he died I...”

Bernie was not expecting John to break down in front of him. The man was always so stoic. John ensured he never wore his heart of his sleeve, unlike both Elton and Bernie himself. He was a businessman first and foremost, Elton’s lover second. To see him show any emotion, especially tears, threw Bernie completely.

“Take a seat then, I suppose,” Bernie muttered, collapsing back in his chair. “I’m too tired to figure out what the fuck is going on right now.”

Bernie leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and shut his eyes. It was the middle of the night after all, and he was bloody tired. Having John fucking Reid in the room with him would not keep him from sleep. 

Elton needed him alert when he woke up and saw his demon beside him.

******************

“This here…,” Bernie began, waving at Elton’s prone form. “Is your fault. If you had just…”

“I know,” John interrupted tiredly.

Bernie blinked. “Oh,” he replied stupidly. 

He had thought of nothing since he had awoken but the tirade that seemed silly to go through now that John admitted Elton’s suicide attempt was his fault. He ran his fingers through his hair for the millionth time that day. “I hate you. Do you know that?,” Bernie commented instead, as though he was speaking of the weather. “I hate you for everything you’ve done to both Elton and myself, and if he takes you back, I don’t think I’ll stick around. Move back to your bungalow in Surrey and leave me out of your lives, thanks.”

“With pleasure,” John said, shrugging. “I hate you too, Taupin.”

Bernie nodded. This was something he knew how to deal with. Elton’s condition he didn’t know how to deal with, so it felt nice to have something that seemed right. He stared at Elton’s face once more before getting to his feet. “I’m going to get a coffee. Be back in a bit, I suppose.”

“Don’t hurry, little Taupin,” John murmured, leaning back and closing his own eyes.

It took all of Bernie’s self control not to punch him in the face.

*****************

When Bernie returned, both Ray and John were glaring at each other darkly. The tension was so thick he almost walked back out the door. He pulled another chair beside Ray and sat down. He took a sip of his coffee, looking at Elton once more. “Still hasn’t woken?”

Ray shook his head. “Not since I’ve been here.” He squeezed Bernie’s thigh. “How are you holding up, mate? You look like shite.”

Bernie shrugged. “Always the charmer, eh, Raymond?" Bernie sighed. "I feel like shite,” he admitted, nodding towards Reid, who had turned his glare to him the moment he sat down. “He’s not helping me feel any better.”

Ray nodded. “Sounds about right,” he replied, rummaging through his rucksack beside his chair. “I brought you a sandwich. Salami. It might be a little warm but still edible. I figured you hadn’t eaten anything.”

“You’re a star, Raymond Williams,” Bernie said, beaming at him as he took the sub from him. “The cafeteria food looked as disgusting as this coffee tastes. I…”

Elton groaned. His eyes flitted open, confusion evident on his face. Bernie and John jumped to their feet, standing over him, John with his usual sneer, and Bernie with a wide smile. Bernie took Elton’s hand in his own and squeezed. “Good morning, sunshine,” Bernie murmured, rubbing Elton’s hand with his thumb. “You’ve been out for 5 days. Good to see your beautiful eyes.”

“Bernie? John? What’s going on?”

“Seems you tried to end it all, love, when Taupin and Williams went to dinner,” John said softly, taking his other hand in his own. He glared at Bernie. “Great friend he is, isn’t he? Leaving you alone when you were so distressed.”

“Stop, Reid,” Bernie hissed angrily. “He’s not up for this tug of war you want to play just yet.”

“Wa’er,” Elton begged.

“Oh shite, of course mate,” Bernie said, reaching for the cup of water the nurse left for when he woke. Bernie stuck the straw in Elton’s mouth, smiling when he drank almost the whole cup before pulling back. “You had me so worried,” Bernie said, leaning down and kissing his forehead. 

“‘M sorry,” Elton said, tears forming in his eyes. “Hurts.”

“Get some rest, Reg. It will all be better when you wake again.”

Elton smiled at him, closing his eyes. Soon he was in a regular sleep, and Bernie collapsed back in his chair. He looked at Reid and smirked. “Looks like he ignored you pretty well, eh?”

“He was barely awake, Taupin. Next time I will ensure I’m listened to,” John replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

_ Ensure he’s listened to, indeed, _ Bernie thought, taking a bite of his sandwich.  _ Looks like I’m not leaving here anytime soon…  _ He looked at Elton, who was smiling slightly in his sleep.  _ There’s no where else I’d rather be, really. Bring it on Reid... _


	11. Chapter 11

They say life goes on. They say it is easy to pick up the shattered pieces of your soul and begin anew. There are many mottos or other such words of wisdom that are supposed to help give a new lease on life to the broken spirited.

Sitting in the so called “quiet room” within the facility, nothing came to mind.

Isolation plays havoc on your body, your mind, your soul. Every animal in all creation not only craves it, but they _need_ interaction with other beings to survive.

Why they thought closing him in would be any help with his recovery he couldn’t even fathom…

He watched hands reach in through the flap and take his still full breakfast (lunch? Dinner? Not like there was a bloody clock or window in this blasted room) tray. He heard the disappointed murmurs behind the door and folded his arms across the front of his grey hospital issued pajamas. (Was it really too much to ask to wear his own Bernie had dropped by if they took the string out of the pants? He missed seeing color...)

“He’s already being treated for bulimia, and he hasn’t eaten a thing in three days already according to his chart,” he heard a masculine voice state from the other side of the door.

Elton’s eyes widened. He struggled to his feet, feeling rather woozy from both the lack of food or water in his system, and screamed. “Three fucking days? That’s it? It feels like bloody weeks!,” he shrieked quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually spoke, now that he really thought about it. “Bloody fucking hell!,” he yelled, his voice breaking, punctuating each word with a punch to the padded wall.

 _Fuck,_ he thought as the door slammed open. He should have been smarter. He should have thought harder before he allowed his emotions to get the better of him. He flinched as the two orderlies held him still as another jabbed a needle into his arm. He promised himself he would be more intelligent than this lot from this day forward as he was placed gently on the mattress on the floor, his eyes shutting despite Elton’s attempts to keep them open. He would check out of this 'hospital' the moment he was able, and go back to one of his homes. At this point he didn't care which and even if John was already there. He needed out of this horrible place.

 _I should never have listened to Bernie…_ , was his last thought before the darkness overtook him.

***********************

When Bernie heard the operator state, ‘ _ There is no patient by that name here, Sir. I apologize.’ _ , he felt his stomach drop. He was so disoriented he just hung up the phone without any word of thanks. He threw himself back on the sofa and squeezed his eyes shut.

“He checked out,” Bernie whispered to Ray, his voice breaking with unsuppressed emotion, running both hands through his hair. “Why would he check out? This doesn’t make sense…”

Ray looked at his best friend sadly. As much common sense as Bernie had, when it came to Elton, it all went out the window. “He probably decided it was too hard and ran. Oh Bernie, I’m so sorry, mate,” Ray replied, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. “Do you need a lager or something?”

“No, Ray, but thank you. I’m going to take a nap and try back later. I must have just misunderstood the operator,” Bernie said, getting to his feet. “Wake in a few hours if I’m not already up?”

Ray nodded, watching Bernie stumble out of the room with a deep frown on his face. There was no way Bernie misunderstood the operator. He was many things, but inattentive was not one of them. Ray walked over to the telephone and dialed the only person who would have any clue of Elton’s whereabouts.

“Where is he, Reid,” Ray asked the moment John whispered his ‘hello’, not in the mood with pleasantries.

“ _ Laying beside me resting, of course, _ ” the man replied, and Ray could  _ hear _ the smirk in his voice. “ _ Do you wish to talk to him?” _

Ray closed his eyes. “Yes.”

_ “Well, he doesn’t want to talk to either of you. Did you know what they do to patients who cop an attitude at the facility you both checked him into? They put them in solitary confinement and drug them if they cause a ruckus within the padded walls. Poor Elton was in there for 6 days before he was finally given leave. He called me and checked back out within minutes. Tell little Taupin I hope he keeps his promise and stays clear of us, because I really don’t feel like dealing with him, darling. Thanks.” _

Ray slammed the receiver on the hook before going to the icebox and retrieving a lager for himself.  _ Bernie is not going to like this. Bernie is not going to like this at all... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. It just seemed like a good place to end it.


	12. Chapter 12

Bernie picked up every magazine and he picked up every newspaper and he watched every television broadcast that had Elton as their guest. He kept his promise to Reid over the course of these several months not to try to contact them as Elton traveled the world during a new tour Bernie was absolutely sure he was not up for. 

He had picked up Elton’s newest record as well, cringing at the lack of depth in the lyrics written by someone Bernie had never even heard of.

If Bernie had known Elton would be abused even within the walls of the hospital, he would have just bundled him up and brought him home with him. He had trusted the nurses and doctors to do what they could to make Elton _better_. Seeing him on the telly though showed they did nothing but make him worse.

Not that the fucking tosser Reid helped in that matter either, of course.

“You really need to get in the shower mate. It’s been a week and I can smell you down the hall.”

Bernie glared at Raymond as he entered the sitting room, before swinging his eyes back to the telly. Elton was singing ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’, and Bernie was busy remembering the first time the watched ‘The Wizard of Oz’. They were sat in Elton’s flat, sitting on bean bags because Elton never bought more than his bedroom set and the bean bags for his flat. He remembered being in awe at the magic of the film.

How simple things were way back when…

“I will after he’s done,” Bernie murmured, folding his thin arms across his chest. He knew he had lost quite a bit of weight over the months since Elton ran back to Reid, which he also knew was not very good considering he was already too thin, and Ray was fretting daily about his condition. Every time he ate he threw it up anyway due to his stress, so what was the point?

Ray told him he was killing himself slowly, and if he wanted to that bad, just get on with it. He had hoped that would jumpstart Bernie to wanting to get better, but instead was awake until past midnight hiding all the pills and alcohol in the house lest Bernie decide to follow up on his advice.

Not that Bernie ever even left the sofa that day.

“I should reach out to him,” Bernie murmured, his head tilted to the side, watching Elton bow to the crowd. 

“Perhaps,” Ray said guardedly.

“I’m going to take a bath. I won’t drown or cut myself, I promise,” Bernie said sarcastically when he saw Ray’s concerned face. “Just going to relax as I wash up is all. If you could find out how to reach him, I would be appreciative. I wouldn’t know where to begin and you know just about everyone in the industry… If not, I understand.”

Ray jumped to his feet, happy to finally be able to do something to help his friend. “I’ll make some calls now.”

A half smile formed on Bernie’s face. The first time anything close to a smile flitted across his face, and it felt good. “Alright, mate. Thanks.”

Bernie limped towards the bathroom, his body almost resisting the movement after so many weeks of doing much of nothing. As he sunk into the hot, soapy water, he smiled. Elton may have left him, but he would find him, and make things right. It was the only thing he could do.

****************

Bernie stared at Elton as he limped into his dressing room. Bernie had been sitting against the wall for hours now, awaiting Elton’s arrival. He was glad Reid had no reason to enter the room whilst Elton was performing, or thereafter it seemed as no one appeared to be with him.

Elton looked just as bad as he did.

Bernie slid up the wall. It was easier than trying to get to his feet from the floor. He stuffed his trembling hands in the pockets of his black dungarees. He had tucked his plaid flannel in his trousers, trying to look decent for the first time in months. He had even pulled back his hair so it wouldn’t be a fluffy mess before Elton came backstage.

Elton collapsed at his dressing table and let out a strangled scream.

“Alright, Elton?,” Bernie asked, his voice still not much more than a rasp after drowning in his depression all those months. He flinched when Elton jumped in surprise. “Sorry, mate. You just didn’t notice me standing here and thought I should say something.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Bernie?,” Elton asked tiredly, putting his head back on the table. “I thought John was quite clear when he said I didn’t want to see you again.”

Bernie shrugged. “He might have been, but that doesn’t mean I was going to listen to him. You must know that about me by now, mate,” Bernie replied, rocking back and forth on the heel of his brown leather cowboy boots. “Why are you dressed as a bird?”

“I dunno why I dress like half the shite the costume department puts me in. I just follow orders. Slave to the people and all that,” Elton said, waving his hand.

“You ever think about going out without all the ridiculous regalia and just be yourself? Only… It seems silly to go through the effort before and after each show with these costumes, innit?,” Bernie asked. “It must be difficult to get in and out of.”

“Not as bad as the Queen get up I had in… Whichever country I was in. It was hell. Took three hours to get ‘perfect’. I hated it with a passion,” Elton said, lifting his head. “Why are you really here, Bernie? I don’t think it is only to question my costumes.”

Bernie nodded. “I’m here to apologize, mate. I didn’t know how bad it would be when I helped you get in. Hugh had said it was a good hospital to get into for rehabilitation, but I didn’t get all the information I should have. You’ve been through too much already to have to have dealt with that too. Please forgive me, mate.”

“I forgave you months ago, Bernie.”

Bernie raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

Elton nodded, tears falling from his eyes. “I could never stay mad at you, Bernie. I thought you would be angry with me for leaving and would lecture me. I couldn’t handle you being disappointed in me on top of everything else. That’s why I didn’t want to have contact.”

“Oh, love, I would always understand. I’m battling the same demons myself,” Bernie said gently, walking towards him. He knelt by Elton’s side, wrapping his arms around him the weeping man. “Shhh, love. I’m here and I am not leaving you.”

“Always?,” Elton asked, his voice small and breaking.

“And always,” Bernie agreed, letting the tears finally fall himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this story has come to an end. It will not turn into a series like some of my other works. Hope you all enjoyed it!

Bernie knew Maxine would run the moment she was let out of the hospital. Seeing her once again had been difficult for him, but it was downright torture for her. At least Bernie had Ray and Elton by his side. She didn’t even have her mother with her. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was the phone call received from the head of the nursing department stating she left without their child, and asking if he wished for the baby to be placed somewhere or if he would come and take responsibility himself. Luckily he and Elton had spent the time setting up a nursery on the off chance Maxine would allow him contact with the baby, or else he would have been screwed.

He named him Peter, after the book that jump started his creativity, and he was perfect in every way. He was almost always content, barely cried, slept a good portion of the night even as an infant. Bernie felt so lucky to be Peter’s father.

He never heard from Maxine again, and for that, he was thankful.

They had started slow in their relationship. Bernie took him on nights out on the town. They visited the clubs Elton used to frequent and danced all night, and would get greasy breakfasts at the 24 hour diners thereafter. 

Ray was a great mate and even better babysitter.

They cuddled on the couch and watched cheesy movies. They continued to write their music, even though Elton hadn’t planned on releasing any new records nor going on any tours, even with Ray as his manager once again.

While the band loved working together once again, they loved seeing Elton happy again even more. 

When Peter first called Elton ‘dada’, he hadn’t stopped smiling for weeks. Bernie took the piss often enough about it, that once Peter called him ‘Papa’ for the first time, and he was smiling like a loon for weeks, Elton ensured he returned the favor. Their strange little family wasn’t what Bernie expected when he ran out the door to help the strange man in the hall, but it was what they all wanted, and Bernie couldn’t have been happier.

Well… Maybe if...

“Elton! Stop leaving your glittery stage gear on top of my bloody clothes! For Christ’s sake, we only go to the disco twice a week, I don’t need my clothes to sparkle while I’m shoveling shit outside!”

Elton’s ringing laughter was the only response.


End file.
